I Want You
by welseykels
Summary: Cullen Rutherford and Emmalee Trevelyan are intimate for the first time. Set a few hours after the events of Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts at the Winter Palace. Art by jellopunch on tumblr.


Maker, she hoped this wasn't the wrong idea. The farther she made it down the hallway, the more she thought about turning back and heading to her own room.

Was she being too presumptuous?

Their dance together had been wonderful. It was something out of the fairy tales she'd read as a small girl. All she'd been able to think of the rest of the night, even with the overwhelming feeling of guilt over the empress that had settled in her whole body, was that bloody dance. Surely it meant that he still wanted to continue with whatever this was that was growing between them? Surely in all these weeks he hadn't changed his mind? She certainly hadn't changed hers. Even with all the signs pointing to the positive, doubt always lingered in her mind. Could he truly want her? Not the Inquisitor, not the Herald of Andraste, but as Emmalee Trevelyan… a lady turned enchanter turned apostate.

She could still feel the way his hand had held slightly too tightly against his waist due to his nerves. The way his hand had felt in her own as they fumbled through the steps of a waltz together. Neither had ever had much experience, a Circle no place for learning dancing. She had felt for the first time his chest pressed to hers without all that blasted armour that he'd had on every moment that they'd had alone together before they were interrupted by someone or something going wrong or needing their attention. Tonight, tonight she hoped that they would have a moment's peace, a calm before the next wave of the ever-oncoming storm.

Ambassador Briala and Emperor Gaspard had been kind enough to offer the Inquisition rooms in the Winter Palace for the night, honouring Empress Celene's existing offer. She'd been placed in the largest guest space, at the western end of the wing. It was opulent, crystals and silks touching every corner of the rooms, putting the size of her own quarters of Skyhold to shame. But Maker, having all that space to herself was incredibly lonely.

It had figured, her room was on the opposite end of the wing they'd been given from her Commander's. Josephine had warned her that appearances had to be kept, especially with the amount of marriage proposals that not only she was receiving, but Cullen as well. She knew the Game well enough, for even in the Circles it was present, but marriage proposals be damned, she wanted to see him. She waited until she heard the world quiet around her, thinking then that it was less likely for her to be seen wandering down the hallway, hoping that was enough. Only Inquisition soldiers would be patrolling inside the wing, the Emperor's guard only stationed at the large entrance doors to this portion of the Palace.

Their budding relationship was the worst kept secret in the Inquisition. She was sure that most of Skyhold had noticed her sneaking into Cullen's tower at odd hours and staying much longer that what could be deemed appropriate of his superior. And if they hadn't noticed that, they certainly would have noticed the Inquisitor and her Commander stealing kisses along the battlements as they walked hand in hand. That could hardly be called planning battle strategies with him, now could it? It would not be the end of the world if someone caught her. But even so she kept the ball of light floating above her hand small, bright enough so she didn't walk straight into a wall or one of the many ornate decorations. It wasn't a long walk, even had to extinguish her light at one point, stepping beside a large armoire, as two soldiers passed by, narrowly avoiding them before continuing on her way.

Until at last she was at his door. She knew she should knock. She always knocked. She was the Inquisitor and she still knocked whenever she entered her Commander's personal and professional spaces. But the thrill and fear of not being caught stilled her hand, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise. And so slowly, she pushed on the heavy wooden door, opening it only enough to peer through. She hadn't even considered if he was asleep. If that was the case, she'd curl up beside him, hoping she could wait until morning came to speak to him.

Instead, she found his back was turned to her, staring out the window, but she could see a silver coin that he rolled between the fingers of his left hand. She swallowed heavily as she watched him, feeling like an intrusion, but wanting nothing more than to be here with him.

He'd taken off his dress jacket, the tunic he wore beneath it tight across his chest and shoulders. And she couldn't help but admire his form, a blush coming to her cheeks as she may have ogled the way his leather pants fitted to his body, something she usually couldn't see with his cloak upon him.

He stopped fiddling with the coin after a few moments and held it in the palm of his hand, his gaze leaving the moonlit gardens outside to the small round piece of metal. She wondered what it meant to him, as he turned slightly, letting her catch the barest of smiles around his lips. It certainly couldn't be just an ordinary silver.

"So, Stanton, huh?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the coin was hastily shoved back into the pocket of his trousers. "Em – Emmalee."

She smiled as she entered the room, closing the door just as softly behind her. "I didn't mean to startle you, you just looked so deep in thought and I –"

He was staring at her, and she had almost forgotten that she'd changed into the dress that she had wanted to wear that evening, before the uniforms had been selected. She'd fallen in love with the garment the moment she had laid eyes on it. It was as if someone had cut a small piece out of the night sky and given it to her. Rich navy fabric littered with small white gems, catching the light with every movement. Rather than a ball gown, as seemed to be the style in Orlais at the moment, the fabric clung to her at the bodice, the tight sleeves revealing just the barest hint of her shoulders before covering the rest of her arms right down to her wrists. The skirt flared only slightly, floating around her legs and would swirl around her if she were to suddenly twirl. It was extravagant, certainly, but she'd paid for it from her own savings and every sovereign had been worth it to see the look Cullen held now on his face, eyes wide and jaw clenching in an effort not to let it fall agape.

But there was something far more pressing on her mind than her wardrobe and his reaction to it. At least, it was something she wanted to get out of the way first.

"Did I do the right thing?" Her hands twisted together. "Tonight, I mean."

He was silent for a moment, contemplating his answer as his brows furrowed. She knew he could hardly tell her that she had made the wrong decision. There was no going back. No bringing the Empress back. He had even suggested this course of events, he could hardly argue with her. He had before. But that had been different. He had wanted the Templar Order to join together with the Inquisition to close the Breach, she had allied with the mages.

"I believe you made a very tough decision."

Her voice was small, smaller than she'd meant, she didn't want to worry him. "I just hope I didn't make the wrong one. I mean, I let her die, Cullen. _I let someone die_."

"Being the Inquisitor will never be easy, Emma. There's no way to know if a decision is right, only to know that you made one in the hopes of betterment." He took a few steps towards her, eyes scanning her face as his hands reached for her. He cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch. "What can I do to ease your mind?"

She closed her eyes, revelling in the warmth of his calloused fingers and palm. "Help me forget about it for a little while?"

If he hesitated, she didn't notice before his hand left her face. He took her hand in his own before placing the other at her waist. They didn't speak as he lead them in a silent waltz. She leaned her head towards his chest as time went on, resting it there and hearing the steady heartbeat.

"You look beautiful, Em."

She smiled against his tunic, heat coming to her cheeks.

"I'm suddenly wishing I hadn't taken off my dress jacket yet. As bloody tight as the blasted thing was."

"Don't be. You're perfectly fine without it. Perhaps better, even."

He laughed, something she was thankful to be hearing more and more often lately, the sound rumbling against her cheek. They spun for a few moments, until his booted foot came down on her slippered one, pulling a sharp squeak of surprise.

"Maker, Emma. I'm sorry." A pause. "And I'm sorry I stepped on your toes earlier as well."

"You hardly need to apologize, Cullen, I think I stepped on yours twice as much."

"Make that at least three times as much."

She scoffed, lifting her head to playfully glare at him. "Excuse me, Commander, but are you suggesting that your Inquisitor lacks talent for dancing?"

A grin curved his lips. "Perish the thought, my lady. I would never suggest such insubordinate things."

She laughed, catching the teasing tone of his voice. "It seems Circles don't prepare us much for these soirées, now do they?"

"We shall just have to practice."

His hand left her to join the other at her hip, causing her own hands to fly to his shoulders when he suddenly lifted her up as he spun them slowly in a circle. His teasing grin softened as he looked up at her, watching as her curls swayed with the movement, how the moonlight lit against her whenever she was in its path, listening to the slight shriek of surprise dissolved to mirthful laughter. As he lowered her, he brought his lips to hers.

It took only seconds before she was tilting her head up and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. A minute before they were blindly stumbling towards the edge of the bed. He pulled her into his lap as he sat at the edge, the fabric of her dress bunching up around them.

One of his hands rested on her thigh, steading her, while is other preoccupied itself with grasping at her arse through the material of the dress. Her own hands threaded through the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Her mouth was hungry against his, her tongue insistent for entrance to his. His lips parted easily for her, his grip tightening on her body as she slowly ground her hips along his once.

But he froze when she attempted to again, pulling away from her kiss. "Emmalee, I-"

"Yes, Cullen?"

He loudly exhaled, "Maker's breath, you'd think this would be easier now. But I… do you wish… I mean…" Another breath. "Do you really want this to continue… with me? Surely there's someone more suite-"

She silenced him with her lips pressing once more against his, chaste this time, before she pulled away.

"Yes." A pause as she chewed slightly against her already kiss-swollen lower lip. "Are _you_ certain? I mean, look at you; you could have anyone, Cullen. You practically did tonight in the ballroom. Surely, I am of no compare."

He frowned, pulling away from her just enough to lean back to catch her eye.

"No one could compare to you. And I don't want anyone else, Emma. I was honest when I said that yours is the only attention worth having. And I certainly did not want the attention of those lechers tonight. Maker, Em, I-" He looked uncertain for a moment, and she could have sworn that she saw fear flash in his eyes before he cleared his throat. "I care for you. A great deal."

"You do?"

"I do."

A small smile played on her lips as she stood from his lap, moving a few steps backward until they could see the whole of each other. He stayed seated at the edge of the bed, a brow cocked at her, plainly curious as to what she was up to as his eyes never left her.

She, however, looked away shyly, not meeting his gaze as her fingers went to the buttons down the back of her dress. Her heart was pounding, she didn't know if he could hear it, but it was a deafening drum in her ears. She'd never… Maker, no one had ever seen her like this. She was sure he could see the tremble in her hand as she tried to undo the offending buttons, failing miserably. How she had gotten this blasted dress on all by herself must had been a miracle, surely.

She could hear him take in a sharp breath, realizing her intentions, before he found his words. "Allow me."

She looked up from where she had been staring at the floor in concentration and embarrassment, eyes wide as he slowly stood and stepped toward her.

Her hair came first, the dark spiralling curls moved over her shoulder to clear the path for his fingers to follow down the silver buttons. Her breaths were beginning to become unsteady, her nerves threatening to cause her to forget this whole thing and just return to her room. But his touch, Maker, she wanted this. And that thought kept her feet rooted to the spot.

Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips pressed soft kisses along her neck, his hands continuing down her spine as they undid each fastening. His nose nuzzled at the patch of skin just below her ear and she was certain that her knees were beginning to quake. When he'd finished opening the back of her dress, leaving the edge of the fabric dipping sinfully low on her back, his hands came back up, fingers sliding under the material at her shoulders and slowly pushing it down.

Her hands came up to cover her breasts as the light fabric covering her slid down and collected at her waist. He still stood at her back, couldn't see the way the moonlight caught around her torso, illuminating the littered lines at the sides of her breasts, her stomach, her arms, marking a sedentary life spent studying in a Circle library, not training and fighting as he had. She only hoped he wouldn't look to closely. _He wouldn't, would he?_

If he did as he stepped around, darkened eyes roaming across her body, he gave no indication. "You are so beautiful."

She was certain that the flush she'd felt creeping across her face since the moment she'd opened the door was crawling down her neck and chest. No one had called her beautiful before and certainly never the way he had just said it, full of want and awe, as if she were something precious. The words bloomed a small hint of courage in her, and she boldly pushed the fabric from her hips, leaving it to pool at her feet. If he were to reject her, at least let it be after seeing all of her.

She nearly laughed as his mouth fell open, any fears of him turning away from her fading with every second. She didn't give him time to react further before she was moving towards him, afraid that too long a pause would put an end to whatever it was that was occurring, her fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt before he was pulling it over his head. Her slippers and his boots were kicked off as they made their way back towards the bed.

She settled on the mattress, back resting against the obscene amount of pillows at the head as he stood at the edge. His fingers worked at the ties of his breeches, thumbs hooking into the fabric of them and his smallclothes when he'd loosened them.

And then he was climbing across the sheets beside her, mouth immediately seeking her own, hands gripping at her hips and pressing her closer to him. She gasped in his mouth as she felt his arousal growing against her stomach.

 _Maker. This was really happening, wasn't it?_

They'd never been this close before, Maker, they'd never been this naked before. They'd come close, but there had always been something.

His hands brushed down to her breasts, lips creating a trail down her neck, alternating between sucking on the skin, nibbling at her, and soothing the bruises he was creating with his tongue. He moved down to her shoulders, continuing the pattern before he placed soft kisses down her collarbone. His lips placed a single kiss in the valley between her breasts, not having a chance to place another as her hands restlessly tugged at his shoulders, and then he was mouthing at her breasts, one tight peak taken between his lips. She was going to be littered with evidence of his affection.

She didn't quite know what to do with her hands, and so they clung at his shoulders, kneading the skin there at his continued his ministrations. Should she be doing something specific with her hands? _Maker. This was really happening_.

 _What if she didn't like it? What if he didn't? Maker, what if she wasn't any good?_

"You're tense, Emma. You've never…" He lifted his head to catch her gaze. "You've never done this before, have you?"

From anyone else the words could have been said accusingly, meant to belittle her lack of experience, but his tone was tender, his fingers stilling as he waited for her answer. And yet despite everything, she found herself looking away to avoid his gaze. "No."

His attention left her breasts and his hand came to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing small circles over her chin. "If you want to stop, we can. There's no rush."

Her answer came quickly. "No. No, don't stop."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than she had expected, his free hand moving downward across her skin, pulling a gasp from her as it skimmed past her hip and falling to the patch of jet curls at the juncture of her thighs.

"It's been awhile for me since… but you're sure you want this? With me?"

She fingers curled at the base of his neck, pulling him close to press a soft, chaste kiss against his lips. "Yes, Cullen."

Her back arched as a finger slipped through her outer lips, working his way around her folds, smearing the evidence of her want over the tip before moving back upwards to the hardening nub.

"Emma, you're so – " His words were cut off as her own hand began to run down his chest, nails lightly scratching against the haired skin as she moved downwards. He groaned as her small fingers skimmed across him, stroking him gently, his breaths becoming more and more ragged the longer she touched him. Her thumb circled around the head of him each time she moved up his length, before moving back downward.

His hand stopped moving against her as his eyes fell closed. "As much as I want this, I want to – Maker. Would you object if I used my mouth? Maker, Em, I want to taste you."

She was pulled from the haze washing over her at his words. "Pardon? You what?"

"I want – That is – If you'll allow… It might help ease some tension."

A nod was her only answer, words failing her as she watched him back himself down the bed. The flex in his shoulders and his back as he moved, an unspoken promise of all the strength he had to give her, had her tightening her thighs together trying to give some relief to the ache building there. He chuckled as he eased them apart again, fingers under her knees. "You're not helping."

She giggled, the sound becoming a moan as he pressed a soft kiss to one of her thighs, lips lowering down to her knee, then her ankle, before switching to her other leg and showing it the same attention. He placed each leg over each side of his handsome shoulders when he was finished, nuzzling his scruff into the now too sensitive skin of her inner thigh. It was maddening how patient he could be, and she was nearly about to urge him onward when his mouth placed a soft kiss to the outer lips at the juncture of her thighs. She gasped when the cool night air hit her arousal as he spread her with his fingers. She didn't know what to do with her hands again, and fisted them in the dark sheets. A loud moan, louder than she was sure either of them had been expecting erupted from her lips as he pressed his lips to her again, his tongue rubbing against the spot where she needed most.

He alternated then, sometimes suckling against her inner folds, pressing wet kisses to her outer lips, his tongue gliding along her seam before growing attentive to her clit. His hands were kneading at her thighs, her hips, her breasts, and she wasn't sure how they'd waited so long for this.

Andraste have mercy, she was sure that she was going to die right here and now on this bed as the pleasure surged through her veins. She could hear the rumours spreading across The Winter Palace and the rest of Orlais now, it would be the foremost scandal of the whole of the Dragon Age, the Herald of Andraste expired from the fancy things her lover's mouth did to her nethers.

 _Her lover_. The words sent a shiver up her spine, she liked the way that sounded.

Her fingers kept their tight hold onto the sheets, her palms dampening the fabric as she clung to something, something so she wouldn't float away in a haze of pleasure.

She called his name when he pressed a finger inside. How could she ever go back to using her own hands to bring herself pleasure after this? She didn't think she could take much more between his tongue and fingers exploring her. And yet she wanted more. Only more.

His lips drifted upwards as his finger continued to pull sounds from her that she never even knew it was possible for her to make. And then he added another, curling them just so, his long fingers reaching a place inside her that she had never been able to on her own. One of her hands loosened enough and was tangling itself in his hair instead, fingers ruining the soft waves. He groaned against her and that was it. The hum against her tender skin and the sound in her ears was all she needed and she was climaxing around his fingers.

She didn't know how long she laid there, her chest heaving. She barely remembered him loosening her legs from around him. But then he was there, above her and all around her.

"Maker's breath. You're so… you're so…"

"Cullen. Please. _I want you."_

He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing laboured as his hips slowed, his words echoing her own. "Are you certain?"

Her hands travelled upwards from his shoulders, framing the sides of his face as she looked him straight in the eyes. "Maker, yes. Cullen, I want this. _I want only you."_

Her back arched once more as he pushed himself inside her slowly, shallow at first, pulling his hips back before working in a little more each time as she stretched around him. He groaned, a low grumble in his chest as he worked himself to the hilt, stopping for a moment when he reached it. He kissed her then, hard, tongue barely sweeping across her lower lip before it was dipping into her mouth, tasting the wine from earlier in the evening on her own tongue. He pulled away only when his hips began to move.

" _Fuck_."

A low chuckle was his answer to her profanity. He'd heard her curse before, certainly, but had never quite heard the word said quite like that, full of want that drew out the four letters, turning it into a plea.

Her fingers grasped at his skin, hands sliding down as she kneaded her way down his back, finally finding their destination at the curve of his arse as it flexed between her legs. She'd never – Maker, she'd never felt anything like this before. It was too much and not enough. His teeth were scraping and nipping against her neck, lips and tongue soothing after. His one forearm stayed firmly planted against the bed, but the other roamed over her. It squeezed and caressed her breasts, flicked and pinched against her taut nipples, gripped against her waist, cupped her cheek.

She wondered if he could feel the tug of her magic, as she neared her peak, if he could feel the pull of the Fade against the residual lyrium in his veins. There was less and less in his veins as time went on, she could tell. He'd never told her, but she had suspected. He smelled different than when she'd first met him, less like the Templars she had been surrounded by among the Circle, smelling more and more like someone who had never taken his vows. She worried, but didn't want to rush him into telling her. But still, she wondered if he could feel the wisps of magic, wondered if it would bother him if he did.

And as she pushed that thought aside for now, his roaming hand sought hers, pushing the back of it into the mattress as his fingers threaded through hers. Her eyes snapped open briefly at the contact, catching his gaze as he spoke in a broken voice.

"Em, touch – t – touch yourself. I'm – I won't last long."

Her hand that had still been cupping his arse slipped between them, rubbing tight circles against her clit. His hips began to stutter, his thrusts coming even faster. He tucked his head in her shoulder, burying his face in her skin as he tried to hold off his own end for the sake of hers.

She cried out as she could feel the edge of her orgasm, her grip tightening on his hand. She was certain that she called his name, but it could have been an unintelligible sob as her body shook and contracted around him. It only took few more pumps of Cullen's hips and he was groaning her own name, his own end thrust upon him at the feeling of hers.

They were both breathing heavily as he slumped against her, his arm still holding a little of his weight off her, but she couldn't deny that she enjoyed the solid feeling of him atop her. Her hand that had been between them slipped from its spot and rubbed soft lines down his back.

When Cullen's breathing started to steady then, he pushed himself up as his hand disentangled itself from hers. His now unoccupied fingers came to brush her cheeks as he looked down at her. "Em, you're crying." And then alarm as the tears registered in his mind. "Maker, Emmalee, did I hurt you? I didn't mea–"

Her own hand came up to cup his cheek, a smile breaking across her face through the tears. "No. Maker, no Cullen. You didn't hurt me. I'm just happy. That's all."

His lips crashed into hers, pulling away only when both had run out of breath. "I was so worried. Maker, Em, I would never want to hurt you."

"I know."

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he did so. "Wait here." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and she was about to ask where he was headed before he took a small cloth from the vanity, dipping it in the washbasin beside it. Only after he wrung it out slightly did he return to the bed.

He slowly dabbed the cloth down her thighs, wiping away any stray evidence of their coupling. She had never felt so naked under his gaze, lain back against the pillows with the moonlight spilling across her, which was quite the feat considering what had just transpired between them. She was sure she was a sight, curls mussed and littered with little marks he'd left across her skin. She knew she didn't regret a single moment since she'd arrived in his room, but she wondered, fear gripping her heart and worry making her second guess his feelings once again.

"You don't regret it, do you?"

His hand stilled, the cloth resting wet against the inside of her thigh. Dread filled her when he didn't say anything at first, until a lopsided smirk pulling at his mouth, and the tenderness in his voice assuaged any lingering fear as he spoke. "You asked that same question after our first kiss."

She chewed at her bottom lip, wondering if asking had been a good idea. "I know."

"My answer is the same as it was then. No." A hand lifted to cup her cheek, her skin leaning into his palm at the contact. "I do not regret a single thing that I have shared with you, Emmalee. Know that."

They stayed silent while he continued, leaving her only once more to discard the cloth, before he returned, pulling the blankets around them as he climbed in beside her. She brushed her fingers through the sweat-slicked curls on his forehead as he laid his head against her breast, one arm wrapped around her middle. His fingers curled around her skin, tucking themselves between her and the soft sheets, pulling her as close to him as he could.

She hummed as she used her fingernails against his scalp, pulling a low groan from him. _Maker, she loved the sounds he made._

His words were little more than a mumble as his eyes began to fall closed from her attentions and from their recent exertions, "What's that?"

"Hmm?"

"The song, what is it?"

She hummed another few bars. "It's an old tune my mother taught me when I was very little."

 _It's a love song_.

"I like it."

His head snuggled closer to her, one of his legs moving to tangle between her own. It felt right, laying in Cullen's arms. And it wasn't long before his soft snores mixed in with her melody. Her fingers continued their trail through his hair until her own eyes became too heavy to keep open, even if she never wanted to leave from this moment between them.

 _I love you_ , _Cullen_.

Now she only had to say the words.


End file.
